


Straight Outta Alik'r

by farlibarcai



Series: Across Tamriel [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Arab-inspired fantasty, Cliche Mercenary Recruiting, Curved Swords, Facial hair or lack of thereof, Hammerfell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farlibarcai/pseuds/farlibarcai
Summary: Some stories buried in old notebooks of mine, now available if someone is interested.This time with better grammar and proper translation from Spanish.





	1. The second ugliest tavern in the city

3E 423, 13th of Rain's Hand Hereby, and under the authority conferred to myself from the Imperial Law sanctioned by the Emperor Uriel Septim VII, I, Ignotus Decollius, Commander of the Legion dispatched to the city of Sentinel, declare the former Imperial legionary and now deserter, Ralain Allanox, a traitor and outlaw. The imposed sentence was exile to the desert, and if seen, imprisonment. From now on, this criminal is banned from this City. Every Imperial legionary, city guard or law abiding citizen is allowed to bring justice upon him if spotted, and letters have been sent to the rest of the cities in the Hammerfell to also include his name in the ungrateful people lists, and every inn, brothel, hotel, temple and business are now advised to deny any services, included but not limited to, trade, give charity or shelter.

**

Ralain knew he had to dissappear quickly to avoid being captured and thrown to the dungeons to rot until that damned dessert became a sea, but he was sassy. Barely recognized by his own superiors in the legion he could probably sit in the fountain of Sentinel for an entire day and no one will try to mess with him, and if arrested, he could pass as a beggar and after a night in prison he could walk again. Everything was believable, except for one thing, or two. He was an Imperial. Sure, there were many imperials in Sentinel but young ones where usually either Legion Soldiers or fugitives from Cyrodiil, once detained a few punches -or lashes- will reveal the truth. And he still carried the Legion steel sword, hidden, yes, but any city guard could ask too many questions, and refusing to answer just one meant inmediate imprisonment. He saw the dungeons under the guard tower once, days before he was expelled from the legion, and even as "interrogator" felt uncomfortable there. He spent half of his life avoiding prison, and when he finally was on the right side of the coin -the most important Law Enforcement organization in the Empire!- bad things started to happen, and his bad decisions made everything worse. That year as a legionary was shit anyway.

Just after remembering the time in the Legion when he learned to write, read and count among redguards and nords -something rare for the all the educated imperials he saw there- his eyes returned to reality. The tavern ahead had a sing barely readable thanks to years of erosion. It was the second ugliest inn in Sentinel.

Ralain avoided the worst places in every city he stepped in - City Guards like to follow whoever enters there- since that awful time he had in the Imperial City years ago. But he also avoided the best ones, not only because he couldn't afford anything beyond a few septims there but also hooded people attracted officers and any sort of "astute" people, sometimes bounty hunters. That place was just fine, no one tried to draw attention and no one cared who enters and who leaves.

He had some savings in his pocket, enough to board a ship elsewhere and maybe drink until blindness. He thought that tavern wasn't occupied because the workers from the port had some hours behind. Wrong. Almost every single chair already had an ass above and every single table had bottles and spilled ale, and he just couldn't go back, people doing so will be noticed and maybe ambushed after a while.

There was a chair waiting to be taken a few steps from him. He just sat and carefully observed the crowd there. A young couple in the background, some drunktards there, two fancy dressed guys here and there drinking without looking apart from the bottles. Ralain asked for a pint of ale. He wasn't drinking too much, half of the pint was still there. But an unseen elbow messed up everything, tumbled the glass and spilled the ale on his body. Now half of his body was wet and he just couldn't tolerate the situation and quickly reached the sword grip.

The elbow belonged to a drunk redguard, with dirty rags and pieces of cloth hanging from his belt, arms and and boots. The redguard saw the mess he caused and laughed -see, this is what happens when you put things in MY way, dumbass- and then tried to put his hand on Ralain's head, the only dry part remaining.  
That was enough, no one will humiliate him this way. He grabbed the rags on the hand and turned around while moved away from the redguard. -Fucking old man, now get me another glass of this-

The tavern owner was contemplating the scene, ready to grab a club if something started there.

-Well- the redguard was drunk, but didn't resisted the pulling of his own left arm -son, I don't care about your beer, release my hand, get lost, or else...- and quickly grabbed the scimitar with the right hand -Im going to give you ONE chance to hit me before I rip you apart!- And before "apart" he had the sharped steel going right to Ralains throat. Except the one ralain took the only chance before it was given: his legion sword was ready to be wielded since everything started. With only one option at the moment, he managed to avoid most of the cut y raise his weapon enough to fight.  
But for his luck the fancy-dressed redguard was close enough to get most of the sword momentum, and drunk enough to let it cut half of his body. The scimitar left only a cut in Ralain's mouth, but all the blood spilled didn't belonged to him.

The tavern had a brief period of silence before exploding in absolute uproar.  
Ralain felt his heart going crazy while he tried to free himself from the redguard, which coughed blood and struggled to take a breath, grabing his scimitar with one hand and Ralain's bloody clothes with the other. The tavern noise stopped when everyone fled, but some figures came close to both of them.  
-Damn, this son of a bitch killed him, now we're in trouble- other voices muttered behind, getting closer and closer -now, what the fuck is this, a soldier, an imperial sword!-  
Ralain's heart stopped. His life was over. This was the end.  
-Get him!"-  
The redguard still grabbed him so strong he couldn't even move. Then Ralain felt something heavy and cold in his head, just before everything became black.

 

The smell of ale and piss was everywhere, his mouth open, his lips were kissing a woodpiece, and his eyes now open: everything was dark. He wasn't scuffed, and his hands helped him to get an idea of where in oblivion he was. But then, a pain in his head and back started, and a wound in his lip refreshed the few memories he had: all those fancy dressed guys, the one he killed and the rest of them, the tavern and... his money! He quickly reached were the cloth he used as a purse was. Nothing.

It was expected, now, he figured how to get up and see around him. The answer came right into his head, as a kick. This was all he needed to know, because the sky lighting through a window, the noise and the movements were telling him he was inside a ship, cruising the sea. That kick was the first and the softest in many, until the one kicking him took his hands on Ralains shoulders, and slapped him.  
-Sweet dreams, aint them?- It was one of the fancy-dressed guys in the tavern: tall, pale, with a mark in his face, and with a ridiculous smile.  
-Good you're awake, princess, now we can give what you deserve!- And pushed Ralain against a bucket filled with water, submerged him two or three times. He wasnt under torture.

Once the water took the dirt and blood from him, the fancy-dressed man dragged Ralain through a corridor to another room. This one had a big window and the three men inside was crearly visible not only because the light: they dressed with shiny scale and mail armors, and carried many colorful pieces of cloth attached to them. The one in the middle seemed older, and somehow similar to the one Ralain killed. They didn't look like pirates, but it did not hurt to ask:

-Are you pirates?-

A little laugh started, but ended once the old man spoke -no, but pirates are going to be here sooner or later. You can join them underwater once we kill them.- They obviously werent part of the legion or any law enforcement from Sentinel.

-Mercenaries, maybe?-

-You're not the one asking questions here- the old man stood up, and the continued -you are here because we need good assets and you killed one yesterday. You must compensate our generosity.-

-Generosity?- Ralain was more confused than moments ago under that serious beating. Every word he heard gave him more uncertainty.

-Again, youre not the one asking questions here- this time the old man voice seemed annoyed -you better know how to count, because we need a now accountant, Argiall, take him out!

Now the pale guy took his shoulders once again and pushed Ralain outside the room. They were heading elsewere.  
-You better shut up, you owe this guy your life, if it was for me, you would be dead in that tavern, or rotting your ass in Sentinel's prison.-

Then, a new door was opened in front of him, and beyond was other fancy dressed redguard, a younger one. Argiall handed him over  
-Allright now you got the boyfriend you wanted, Farzad, this imperial may give you some fun. But once you're done with him, throw his lazy ass to the sea-. Argiall then left the room, laughing.

-So, Farzad?- The redguard didnt replied, instead, reached something in a table, it was the legion sword, the one given to Ralain a year ago.

-You managed to kill a veteran sellsword. You seem skilled, that's why you're here. Killing an old drunk asshole wasn't an achievement, but carrying this without being noticed and unsheathing it right in the time to kill is, for sure, something to be proud of-

Ralain had his mouth opened and tongue out like a dumb dog

-I told everyone you could fight, and count also, so the boss agreed that recruiting you was a wise move.-

When Farzad decided to leave the room, Ralain raised his voice:  
-What about my money?-  
-You took your time, Imperial- Farzad laughed -The Tavern owner asked for a big bribe to shut up, and the old Accountant needed a proper burial-.  
-Stand up now, Imperial. There's some armor in the crates there, see if it fits you, and get ready- This time Farzad stopped laughing -We're being paid for protecting this ship, pirates won't be as generous as the Scorpion is-.

-Oh, crap!-

Ralain realized how expensive free stuff could be.

 


	2. To get something, give something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralain was forcefuly recruited into a mercenary company, now he has to fight before he could get a chance to escape.

Sunlight was about to fade. Pirates liked to start their attacks on dusk, so they could leave the ship by midnight with loot and remain unnoticed for hours until the Empire galleons could locate the shipwreck. Not this time. A silent group of men, covered in mail shirts and scale armors was hidden under the deck of the ship.

Farzad had many friends, and still more people owed him favors. Among them, the Scorpion himself, and many smugglers, which also knew the pirates's routes beforehand and agreed to make the Company participant of law enforcing just to settle a score with some debtors.

As the night got closer, warriors fastened their belts and prepared to the slaughter. A battle was about to start, but Ralain was confused about what was his role there. The robes he wore barely protected him, and the sword weight made his belt almost falling apart. After getting this "equipment" he followed Farzad to a bigger room.

"Were are we going?"  
"Nowhere" answered Farzad with demeanor "The fight is coming after us"  
"And you want me to fight like this?"  
"No, you can just die like that, fighting is up to you"  
Complaining was pointless. He thought about jumping to the sea but every door was closed and no one was allowed to be outside. Any way was a certain death, he only had to do whatever those mercenaries asked from him and wait until they decided to set him free.

**

  
The few remaining sunrays became weaker and most mercenaries gathered beneath the deck, with the trapdoors being the only thing between them and the cold breeze of the Abecean.

The careful preparations set up by The Scorpion and Farzad for this mission took place for weeks. The shipment was only a ruse, just a couple of crates with travel supplies, declared as goods sent to Camlorn: tons of metal works, Cyrodillic liquor kegs and artisan crafts. Smugglers dream. Perhaps too good to be true, But nothing a pirate couldn't handle.

Criminals believe they're smart, but The Scorpion was smarter. Luring the joined forces of two pirate ships meant killing two birds with the same arrow. Numbers never worried him: the Company was formed by the toughest forebears he found after his early retirement, 20 years before, just after fighting side to side with the King Camaron himself.

**

  
Despite being in danger, Ralain was focused in planning what he would do after. Once he escaped, he... His wandering thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crash the ship tremble, followed by the crack of wood, and what he believed was battle screams.  
The people above the deck did as they were told to, and quickly hid in the reinforced ship's bridge while mysterious people got aboard in their pursuit.

Then the trapdoors in opened and the mercenaries jumped outside, taking the pirates by surprise and sealing the pact signed months ago by the Scorpion and a makeshift coalition of merchants and smugglers.

Ralain found himself pushed and mixed in that short range battle where he couldn't fight. A kick and a punch moved him from the confusion and forced his hands onto the sword he used to kill not so much time before. Wielding it in spite of the overwhelming darkness, interruped only by the occasional torches appearing in battle.  
But the night was far from being over, and without facing a single enemy, Ralain imagined he stabbed one who fought back and returned the hit with a stick just above Ralain's chest, sending him to the floor with the sword aside, and forcing a disadvantageous fistfight.

To defeat this angered enemy was up to Argiall, who was fighting two pirates and throw one of them -with a severe broken skull and a knife still in the hands- piercing a fellow pirate and giving Ralain a chance to move and get his legion sword to meet another pirate coming fresh from the assault ship, who quickly dodged the first attack and put a falchion in Ralain's stomach, forcing him to fall back where the two bodies lied, in time for Argiall to throw the other pirate -with half neck sliced- to the exact same place the first one got stabbed.

Ralain resbaló with the fourth enemy ready to cut his guts, placing the legion sword and the falchion one against the other. There was no chance he could escape unharmed this time. To take down this one he had to get closer.

  
**

  
In the Imperial Legion training, the officers in charge used to left the recruits fighting between themselves and returned when everyone seemed tired already, randomly choosing from a list two or three to fight and defeat, just for the sake of humiliate them.

"Allanox!"

He wasn't used to get called that way, the surname he invented in a hurry just to fill documents belonged to someone he knew years ago.  
But a clear order from that officer made Ralain step up almost in a mechanical way. Two redguard newbies fell just after some quick moves of their superior, who thought choosing a fellow imperial as his next victim could made him look less like a racial bully.

The previous recruits charged against the officer and tried to tackle him, and received a serious beating after they met with the fresh and strong officer. Ralain decided to wait, but the instructor was no fool and approached cautiosly, ready to disarm any surprise. But there was no surprise, He overestimated Ralain, who got hit, but managed to grab the officer's arm and almost returned the hit.

"Halt, soldier!"

Being put in such situations could be shameful for any officer. To stop further difficulties and keep his prestige in the legion the best he could do was using his authority. Ralain slowly released his commander's arm and returned to his original position.

"Dismissed!"

  
**

 

The pirate knew how to hit vital parts, and once this mercenary stopped resisting, moved the falchion right below Ralain's rib cage and advanced while putting the other sword far from him, meeting little resistance. The idea of finally killing Ralain let the pirate forgot his right arm was still trapped and the closer the sharped blade was, the stronger the resistance became. The imperial sword, in Ralain's free arm, without any obstacle, stabbed the pirates neck and spilled blood all above Ralain's chest and face.

Moving the body above proved to be harder than he thought. When he managed to stand up, the sunrays loomed shyly from the sea. Piles of corpses like the one he was close to abound on the deck. And the fight move to the other ships side to side. Ralain didn't folowed the battle and decided to sit for and bear witness something new for his eyes: a total massacre.  
A few mercenaries walked around, checking for pirates to rematar, taking cloth from the dead bodies and leaving to the nearby ships.  
A scene like this would make anyone puke, but the beating he received the day before sealed his nostrils, and he remained calm, almost hypnotized.

The sun rised higher and the battle was over. Every single man in the attacking ships died, whereas some of the mercenaries got noticeable wounds. The Scorpion won like he used to. A flawless victory.

Carrying corpses was well know for being a stupid idea, but the coalition needed evidence: some of the empty crates in the transport ship were enough to store all of it. Argiall and some others were organized in groups to dispose the bodies, after sacking their pockets for valuable stuff and beheading every single one of them, leaving the severed heads in the crates and throwing the rest to the sea. A well organized effort Ralain wasn't part of. Nobody cared for him and he could spend all the hours resting from the violent night, and eventually he got the chance of washing the dry blood from his face.

**

 

The port in Daggerfall was crowded by mercenaries escorting some wealthy fat businessman and his assistant, who carried folded documents waiting to be opened and signed. In the horizon, three ships slowly approached the coast, relying on the shy wind. The preparations for docking were meticulous, and the ships arrived almost simultaneously, mooring and quickly deployed a contingent of mercenaries, all carrying colorful pieces rags adorning their armors, symbols of individual victories during their time serving The Scorpion, except for Ralain, who looked like an threatening beggar rather than a victorius warrior.

The scene attracted the attention from hundreds of peasants in the docks, and the even the city guards became mere spectators of what could be a business with excessive "security enforcement". 

"I had to admit" the wealthy businessman slightly fat talked to the main ship, some feet ahead "that you wouldn't even survive"  
"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" the Scorpion poked his head over the bow of the boat "surviving is essential in this business" said, outlining a little smile  
"But you're wrong, _monsieur_ Scorpion" the businessman put his hand on hips, looking even fatter "profiting is way more important!"  
Both men laughed like old friends despite being cautious between each other.  
"Now, without wishing to remember the contract terms, show me the proofs I need right here so we can proceed with the distribution"

"As you wish" the Scorpion answered with a servant tone, and quickly ordered two strong men to lift a crate and opened it in front of his business associate:  
Lots of rotten severed heads fell to the port ground and made everyone but the businessman retroceder two steps. Money not only freezed his heart, it also took away his disgust.

"Well, _monsieur_ Gerard- The Scorpion mocked the breton accent if the Businessman, exaggerating the tongue movement to mimic the Breton accent. "Let's get to the important matters" and the switched to the ship employees "burn this mess, far from here"

Gerard and his retinue then abandoned the docks, while the Scorpion called his personal bodyguards: six not-so-fancy dressed redguards. The businessman was walking when he saw Ralain wearing the miserable and blood-stained robes and returned to The Scorpion "hey, did you saved this one from a shipwreck?"

Ralain felt the weight of three dead pirates on his shoulders. Gerard laughed and continued, while everyone looked at Ralain like a thief that failed and got caught.

"Get that son of an imperial bitch" The Scorpion changed his mood in a second. Argiall and some other unknown mercenary came and quickly grabbed Ralain's arms "Down" this command was followed by a kick right in the guts and a collision between nose and armor. Argiall got some sort of pleasure by doing it.  
"This is the last time you make this company ashamed!" The Scorpion had his index finger raised whenever he stated something serious "Argiall, bring his ass with us and watch him closely, the rest of you, see you in the brothel in three hours, no less!" A cheerful response followed the scolding.

Ralain was pushed forward while his nose bled profusely and despite his limp, his captors refused to slow their walks until they reached their destination.

  
**

  
Ralain never got any education aside from what he learned in Bravil Streets.  
He was the only imperial in the group of illiterate redguards and nords that the Imperial Legion recruited in a hurry, during a men shortage after the war of the betony, when the Emperor decided the Hammerfell nobles and warlords were too powerful to tolerate, and the imperial armies started exerting their rightful influence in the arid province.

Basic writing and reading seemed to hard for him, but he found math something enjoyable, specially when he received his first bag of septims. Life wouldn't be hard as it used to. From then on, that uniform became the success attire. Wherever he went he was greeted and respected, and his presence made the people feel safer.

Those khajitt and bosmer smugglers thought otherwise. For them, being in company of legionaries while detained meant suffering. They were beaten mostly for an officers fun rather than information. Ralain's boots even changed their colors to a vivid crimson tone after a week of following orders in the "secret dungeon" of the imperial barracks in Sentinel.  
He eventually realized the beating those criminals turned into an involvement in a corruption case where he became part just for beating the enemies of a powerful traficker.

The new commander limited to issue wanted notes against Ralain and other 15 legionaries instead of starting a proper inquiry.  
  



End file.
